What Almost Wasn't
by malfoyisawesome
Summary: Sequel to King of the Castle by malfoyisawesome. Shorter fic. The conclusion to the first story, as Draco figures out life after his encounter with a certain Slytherin. Dramione. Rated M for language only and mild smut not as bad as the first story .
1. Chapter 1

**A/n- Sorry it took so long. I've been very busy.**

**--**

Chapter 1

It was hot out; Draco was sweltering in the July heat. He was outside, in the broom shed looking for the extra crate of quidditch balls to lend to Blaise. Of course the stupid crate was bewitched so it wouldn't come with a summoning charm; it was just Draco's luck. He heaved a few boxes out of the way and finally found it, in the way back of the shed. Draco scowled and lifted it easily, hauling it out of the shed and onto the green grass outside of Draco's Manor.

He looked up at the windows, wondering what Hermione was doing. Probably cleaning or something, she refused to allow the house elves to clean their bedroom. Draco hated when she got all motherly; she got weird and started singing Muggle songs. The windows in their bedroom were thrown open, he could see, for 'fresh air' as Hermione put it. He looked back down at the dusty crate.

That's when he heard it; the crunch of gravel under a heavy foot. It came out of nowhere, as Draco hadn't seen anyone when he had just looked up. His hand reflexively went to his wand in his pocket, but when he looked up, it wasn't who he had expected. No cloaked visitor, wand pointed out, scowling fiercely. Not a threat at all. An old friend. An unwelcome one.

"Melana," he said shortly, charming the quidditch crate smaller and putting it in his pocket for later. He'd visit Blaise tonight and give it to him then.

"Draco," she greeted in return, striding her way over. She looked no different; it had only been a month and a half, after all. Somehow, Draco had expected her to look older, but for the most part, she looked quite the same.

The air she held herself with was different though. The cockiness and sarcastic nature of her old school self had seemed to evaporate. Draco couldn't place it, but she seemed more tired, maybe worn out. Draco didn't think she had started working, not that she needed to, but all the same, she didn't look just right. Her hand was on her hip and she was staring at him, angrily.

"Nice house," she commented.

"What are you doing here?" he seethed, ushering her into the shed and shutting the door behind him. "Hermione is home, Melana. Do you need something from me?"

"You're not going to graciously invite me into your actual home?" she asked roughly, a pout on her face.

"No, you shouldn't be here. The last thing I need is Hermione getting suspicious."

"Yes, because if she finds us together alone in a broom shed, she won't have any suspicions."

"Hilarious."

"I take it that you didn't tell her about what happened."

Draco paused for only a moment. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Melana had a set expression on her face, but he could see the water glistening in her eyes, threatening to break loose. Draco didn't understand women and their need for waterworks constantly. Melana knew full well that denial was the only way to get through this situation and forget about it. It was bad enough that it had haunted him this past month, he didn't need her skeletons coming back up as well.

"Well, I'm glad you can pretend, Draco." Her eyes avoided his as the tears slipped out.

"What do you mean?" he shot at her.

"I'm fucking pregnant, Draco."

--

Draco was sitting, bolt straight, in his sitting room. A cup of coffee was on a coaster on the wooden side table; cold, untouched. He stared straight ahead, not moving. He was thinking, actually. But even that came at a price; thinking made him feel guilty, and the guilt was tearing at his chest and throat. Draco hated the feeling that he was going to cry, yet he felt so helpless.

Who could he turn to? He wasn't ready to tell Hermione. He wasn't ready to fix this with Melana. Blaise would never understand. And his mom would believe it was unforgivable. Draco Malfoy was trapped, and he truly felt it too. The walls were closing in on him, and he knew that he needed to take decisive actions, and quickly.

Firstly, he needed to know what Melana was going to do. Keep this baby, or not. That would change his decision and he knew it. If Melana was keeping it, which was her decision, then he would have to tell Hermione sooner rather than later. If she wasn't, then it was safe to allow a few months before Draco dropped the bomb. He felt guilty. He took a sip of the cold coffee and spit it back into the cup.

Hermione was in the shower. He could hear the water running upstairs, and hear the footsteps of his mother on the floor above. Merlin knows what Narcissa was up to; most likely redecorating some wing of the house no one would step foot in. Draco stood up mechanically, clearing away the cup with his wand, and went outside onto the patio. The sun was setting, a brilliant orange and red.

It looked as though the sky was on fire, as shades of red flames licked up the last of the sun's yellow rays. Draco watched slowly as the sun slipped, finally, beyond the horizon. Blackness inked through the bright colors, leaving small traces of pink and orange in the faraway skyline. Sighing, he turned back inside and went upstairs to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hermione walked through the door, clad only in a white towel. Draco looked up and smiled, just barely, but she wasn't looking at him anyways. He hung his head once again while she slowly got dressed; Draco could hear the opening of drawers as she put her pajamas on. It was time for bed, of course. Draco got up and stripped down to his boxers slowly, and climbed into bed.

"You okay?" Hermione asked as she climbed in after him and turned to him. Draco propped himself up on his elbow and stared at her.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "just tired."

"Quidditch wears you out," she commented, and Draco smiled faintly.

"Always has." He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips and kissed her lips gently. He wasn't in the mood tonight, so he pulled away. She didn't complain.

"Night," Hermione said, yawning. Draco kissed her forehead and turned over, away from her, and closed his eyes.

Sleep evaded him almost all night. He knew Hermione was asleep next to him; he could hear the sound of her breathing; inhale, exhale. For awhile he simply listened to that, and the hum of the crickets outside. There wasn't much else to do. Getting out of bed would awake Hermione and simply alarm her; he would have to tough the night out. After a few hours of sleep deprivation, he nodded off into a doze.

At six, he swung his legs out of bed gently and got up, stretching. Creeping out of the room, he found his way to the bathroom to take a shower and get dressed for the day. He had promised to see Melana today for breakfast; it was the easiest time to get away. Hermione took morning classes at the Ministry for training, and she wouldn't know he was gone.

When he wandered back into the bedroom after his shower, Hermione was awake, sitting up in bed.

"Morning," he said, leaning over and receiving a lazy, sloppy kiss from his fiancé.

"Mmm," she mumbled. It was clear she had just woken up; the sleep in her eyes was noticeable. "Why are you up so early?"

"I was going to have an early morning fly," he mentioned.

"It's barely light out," she said, laughing lightly. He ruffled his own hair, making it dry with a spell.

"Yes, well, a good breakfast and then out I go."

"You're strange sometimes."

"No, just surprising. I'll make breakfast today," he said, knowing she'd like that.

"That's sweet of you. Just don't burn down the house, I'm not sure even you could afford another Manor."

"You'd be surprised." He left the room then, leaving Hermione to her morning routine. She always took a shower, got dressed, got ready, cleaned up the room, and then had breakfast. Draco would certainly be done preparing her meal by the time she was done.

It turned out, though, he wasn't a very good cook. After the third piece of burned toast, Draco threw them into the trash and ordered a group of elves to quickly make breakfast. It would turn out better than anything he could cook anyways. In the end, the elves hastily prepared eggs, toast, and bacon, and Hermione sat down and seemed happy.

"You didn't cook this," she said immediately after taking a bite.

"What?" he asked, trying to stifle his laughter. "How'd you know?"

She laughed. "It tastes good."

He chucked her the finger and sat down next to her on a bar stool, where they normally ate quick meals. Hermione seemed rather rushed; glancing up, he noticed that she was running late. That in itself was odd, but perhaps he had slowed her down, having to make breakfast and all. Normally, she grabbed a piece or two of toast and bolted. Well, she could appreciate him at least attempting to do something nice once and awhile, even if it was out of guilt.

And that thought sent him spiraling again, in to the same sort of hopelessness that had overwhelmed him all night. Sighing, Draco got up, breakfast practically untouched, and headed towards the door.

"You didn't eat," Hermione said, not looking up from her bacon.

"Yeah, I know, I'm really not hungry."

She paused. "Are you alright? You tossed and turned a lot last night."

Draco was glad he was looking away; he didn't want his face to betray him on this one. He cleared his throat, his hand now resting on the handle of the door.

"Sorry if I woke you up," he said shortly, opening the door. "See you when you get home."

He left, not waiting for Hermione's response. Normally, in the morning, he was grumpy anyways. She ought not to think anything of his little mood swing; however, he knew Hermione's way of over thinking everything. Draco felt worse than before, because she would surely worry all day now, overanalyzing every one of his words. Nonetheless, he couldn't turn back. Nothing good would come off that.

For a few minutes, he flew around the Manor on his broom, stealthily climbing above the trees and circling the roof. After awhile, he figured Hermione had left, and flew down to check. Hopping off his broom, he leaned it against the wall of the house and peeked in. It was quiet.

"'Mione?" he yelled.

"Master's girlfriend has left for work!" squeaked Tinky, his newest elf. Draco smiled politely and thanked her, shooing her off to work in the kitchens or elsewhere. Surely, Narcissa would be having some guests today while Draco was out of the house, and the elves would be attending her whims.

Feeling in his pocket to check for his wand, Draco took a few deep breaths. His watch read just past 7:30; he had told Melana 8:00. Growling fiercely, he headed back outside. The only thing he could think of doing was flying more, but he was hardly in the mood. But, it was the only thing that truly kept his mind off of unpleasant things.

So, Draco took to the air once again, this time releasing a snitch to capture. The mist had lifted, but his sneakers soaked through from the dew on the ground. He scowled and counted to ten with his eyes closed, trying to listen for any sound of the snitch's wings to tip him off. After ten seconds, he opened his eyes wide open and flew off in the direction of the snitch. He could see the early morning rays of light glistening off of the golden ball, and he easily caught it.

Sighing, the ball crumpled in his hand, Draco realized that this wasn't going to distract him today. He shoved the snitch into his pocket and descended to the ground. Before he could change his mind, he turned on the spot and apparated.

--

Melana sat across from him, constantly running her hand through her hair. The other was used to wandlessly stir her coffee, which was still full on the table. Draco sipped at his tea merely out of habit; he didn't care for the taste today. Nothing could perk him up. Neither of the two said anything at all, just stared anywhere but at each other. They were seated in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, in a private room Draco had requested (with a handy tip).

"So…" she said slowly, seemingly testing his patience. He had none.

"So what?" he snapped angrily. He immediately regretted it, seeing the look on her face. He shook his head, running pale fingers through blonde strands of hair, gently pulling at it. It didn't do much but sting, but somehow released his stress.

"Can you just… say something?" she said. Draco could tell she felt stupid. "I wasn't going to tell you, because of that stupid mu- girl. But I couldn't keep shit from you."

Draco shook his head, wishing Melana hadn't said anything to him at all. "Yeah, well, you did what you thought was best."

"You wish I didn't tell you."

"No," he lied, "I just wish it hadn't happened." At least he wasn't completely lying on that one.

"Ouch," she replied, but not looking hurt at all. Draco knew that Melana normally wasn't like this at all, but her confidence had been lost in a rash, drunken mistake.

"It's not… you know why it was a mistake."

"Yes," she said firmly. "We're just kids, you know, we make mistakes."

His laugh was utterly forced. "Yeah, mistakes."

She giggled. "Alright, we all fuck up."

"Much better." He took a long sip of tea, allowing it to scald his tongue. He bit through the pain. "So what's the plan?"

"The plan?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Well… I mean, are…" he trailed off, unsure how to say this. It couldn't be insensitive; that would spark more conflict. But Draco desperately needed to know Melana's course of action regarding this… baby. He cleared his throat. "Are you… keeping it?"

It sounded so wrong, but she seemed indifferent to it. However, Melana didn't immediately respond to his question. Rather, she looked around the bland room, searching for a distraction. Draco didn't attempt to hold her attention, and allowed her some time for innocent thoughts to flow through her head. After all, were this his decision, he knew it couldn't be rushed. Draco had no doubt that Melana had thoroughly thought it through.

"I don't want to make it hard on you," she said, staring at the floor.

"You can't make your decision based on me." He wished she would.

"That's not what you really want, though."

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But I made an error in judgment. Whatever the outcome, I will back you in whatever means. Life doesn't always work out."

"And if I choose to keep it… you and Hermione…?"

Draco couldn't deal with the flutter of pain that shot through him at the mere prospect of telling Hermione the news. Eventually, she'd hear; the newspaper would announce it, and if not by the Prophet, someone in the Ministry would be eager to dish to Hermione. And it wouldn't be long before she connected Draco's guilty mood wings to Melana… they had a history, after all. Shaking at the thoughts, he pushed them away.

"She will be attended to by myself. Nevertheless, if that if your choice, I will… accept responsibility."

She took a deep breath. "I'm keeping the baby, Draco."

"That's what I was afraid of," he admitted, sighing.

"I'm not asking you too marry me or anything. I don't need that."

He nodded slowly. Leaving Hermione wasn't an option anyways. If, however, Hermione did leave him, he supposed he'd end up with Melana. He had no romantic feelings for the girl, but he was sure they'd get along well enough. Pansy would have some sort of fit, though. The retaliation from all this wasn't going to be pretty.

"You want money, then," Draco commented, taking another draught of tea.

She scoffed. "I don't need your money, Draco. You know that as well as I do."

"Then what are you asking me for…?" He was confused. If she wasn't asking for money or any form of child support, or even to be with her, then what did this girl require of him? He was growing impatient with her lack of demands.

"I'm asking you to be a father, Draco."

White hands gripped the table as his brain reeled.

--

**A/n- Let me know your thoughts. Reviews. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n- The grammatical mistakes are because I'm tired and too lazy to re-read normally, and because I don't use a beta reader (I ought to), not because I don't know how to write grammatically correct. Thanks :) **

**P.s. I gave up on chapter titles… I fail at that. **

--

Chapter 2

Draco paced the room nervously, biting at his nails. It was an unhealthy nervous habit from his younger days; his mother had forced him to stop eventually. Charming ones' nails to be the taste of Muggle cough medicine was normally effective, but Draco couldn't stop anyways. He didn't want to. Anything was better than allowing the feeling of being a complete and total disappointment to Hermione wash over him. He refused to succumb to the guilt, even though it was ebbing through him.

Taking deep breaths and long strides, Draco thought everything over. He knew he needed to tell Hermione as soon as possible; sooner, rather than later, he had agreed. Melana had told him it would be less than a few weeks before she started showing, and then the news would spread like wild fire. The last thing Draco wanted was for Hermione to find out through the paper, or even worse, a co-worker at the Ministry.

An involuntary shudder pulsed through Draco as he imagined Harry and Ron finding out. It would be off with his head, he expected. It'd be something he'd need to face though, eventually. There was no doubt that they'd pay a visit as soon as Hermione told them, or else if they found out otherwise. His only idea to avoid them was to leave and stay with friends in France somewhere, but Draco wasn't about to be a coward. He knew, this time, Harry wouldn't be siding with him, however.

Melana had been nice enough about the situation; it was agreed, already, that the child would live with her and her family, who had previously been informed. Draco had promised he'd stop in eventually to meet Melana's family, but he was hoping to put that off as long as possible. Draco was confident that her parents weren't exactly thrilled with him, even if the whole ordeal wasn't his entire fault. Other than that, Melana wasn't pushing anything other than, at the least, twice a week visits. Draco knew he could handle that.

Except, he didn't see how this was going to work. If, by some kind of miracle, Hermione did decide to stay with him, what would life be like? He, Draco, would be entitled to visiting his… child, he swallowed the thought, more than once a week. That would mean spending time with not only the baby, but Melana as well. How would that affect his relationship with Hermione? And (this was his biggest fear), would he become attached to Melana in the process?

It was too much for an 18 year old boy to handle. Half of him still wished that Melana had just gotten rid of it, but then again, that was much too immature for him. After all, he really wasn't a fan of killing something that he, Draco, had created. And if he thought devilishly, like Lucius, then he knew he was getting the pureblood child he had always wanted. Technically, the Malfoy line would continue, however, under Melana's name.

That was Draco's only demand; the child couldn't have his name. It was insulting to Melana, he knew, but he wouldn't have it. Only if he and Melana, by a stroke of chance, ended up together officially, would their child be named a Malfoy. To Draco, it wasn't totally his. And though he'd never voice it out loud, he wasn't sure if he was even ready at all to allow a child of his to enter this world. His brain pounded at the thought. He sat down.

The easiest way to get through this was to sit down with his mother first and try to explain the situation. It would give Draco some sort of idea of how to bring the subject around to Hermione, and perhaps Narcissa could provide insight. The woman would be royally pissed, Draco had no doubt, but hence was life. She'd have to know eventually. Hermione's departure would be sure to alert her.

Finally determined, Draco stood up and headed towards his mother's room. The journey was difficult; he turned around and walked halfway down the stairs twice before making it to her floor. He knew she was home, since he could hear the sounds of the Wizarding Wireless playing down the hall. Sighing heavily, Draco strode over to the door and crept in.

Narcissa was plumping pillows in the guest room; why, Draco didn't know. They rarely ever had guests, except for family, ever since Lucius had passed. Most of his "friends" were now in jail or otherwise in hiding, Draco suspected. As for the others, they didn't stop by unless it was for business purposes (whatever that meant), and they didn't stay the night. Besides, the Malfoys had elves for the cleaning. Draco suspected this sudden urge to clean and redecorate had to do with Lucius' death. Well, whatever helped his mother grieve, he'd go along with it.

"Draco?" his mother said, surprised, whirling around and seeing him, standing just inside the door. "Are you coming to look at my handiwork?"

Draco barked. "Good one mother. No, actually, you'll find I have better things to do."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "What, your fiancé?"

Draco's cheeks went pink and he coughed. "Interesting, mother."

"If you think I don't know…"

This was getting awkward and way too far off topic. "No, no. Drop it. I need to talk to you about something rather private."

She looked at him weirdly and shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. Draco followed her lead and sat on the perfectly made bed, mussing the covers a little. His mother fretted over the linens for a moment and then peered back at him, examining the lines on his face. Lines of worry.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Narcissa was rarely ever concerned about her son; she loved him, but it had always been Lucius who was her first priority. Their connection, emotionally, had never extended farther than typical mother-son relationship. He had never confided in her. So, to Draco, spilling his deepest and darkest secret was frightening.

"What if I…" he paused, not sure how to say this. A lump rose in his throat, and he quickly swallowed it back down. His stomach, jumbled at the idea of telling anyone this information, was making him nauseous. "What if I told you that I got someone pregnant?"

There, he had said it. His mother's face lit up. "You and Hermione are having a baby?" she asked, excitedly. "It's so soon!"

Draco blinked a few times. Trust Narcissa to think the best of her son. Draco felt even worse now; his mother wanted to be a grandmother, but it wasn't exactly what she was thinking. Then again, she'd probably prefer a pureblood child over a half blood. He sighed, not knowing how to crush his mother's Puritan beliefs about him.

"No, mother."

"No? I thought you said… a baby." The last words lost their tone. She was now staring at him, slightly horrified.

"Yeah… well, you see…"

"Draco Malfoy, do not tell me you were unfaithful."

He looked down, wringing his hands. "Mom."

"Don't, Draco."

"Narcissa," he started. She snapped her head up to look at him; angry, hurt. He didn't want to do this anymore. "I just… it was a fucking mistake."

"Bloody hell it was a mistake, Draco. How are you going to tell your fiancé that it was a mistake? Do you think she's going to understand that?"

"…No."

She sighed, looking away from him. Narcissa was disappointed and ashamed of him, this Draco knew. But he couldn't take it back. And he knew that it would be ten times worse with Hermione. At this moment in time, Draco figured it would be easier to just walk out of the door and never come back. Maybe Hermione would think he got eaten by wolves.

"So what are you going to do?"

"What the hell can I do?" he snapped, cracking his knuckles nervously. "There's nothing to do but tell Hermione and hope to Merlin she doesn't kill me."

"She's going to leave you, Draco." How blunt of her to say so.

"You don't think I fucking know that?" His face was red.

"Don't talk to your mother like that," she threatened. Draco looked away, back at the floor. He truly wished he had just asked her about the bedroom decorations after all.

"Sorry, I just… don't even know what to tell her. Sorry doesn't even cut it."

"When did this happen?"

Ugh. He didn't want to think about that night. "The night before we left Hogwarts."

"Too much Firewhiskey?"

"Melana is a cheap drunk," he admitted, a faint grimace appearing on his face.

"Melana? Pretty girl. I always thought you'd end up with her."

He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, right. She's a bit of a tramp."

"I suppose so, sleeping with an engaged man."

"We were drunk, in her defense."

"And in your defense?" Narcissa countered.

He shook his head. "I don't have one. I think I knew what I was doing. That's what scared me. I couldn't even prevent myself from doing it… I was just pissed off at her."

She shook her head, tossing her blonde hair from her face. Narcissa was always faithful to Lucius, even when there had been doubt in her mind about his loyalty. Nonetheless, she knew how her son felt, and she surely knew how Hermione would feel. Draco only wished that his mother would say anything to comfort him, or to tell him what to do.

"Was she flirting with someone else?"

"Her ex-boyfriend!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "A woman's way of testing a man's patience."

"Is that what it is? I call it stupidity."

Narcissa rolled her eyes at her son's harsh words. Of course Draco thought that way; he was looking for anything to use as a scapegoat for his actions, when there was none. He would simply have to learn to live with the consequences and hope that everything may finally, someday, work out. But in which was? Draco wasn't even sure what any of this shit meant.

"What's Melana's plan?"

"Keeping it. She wants visits from me twice a week, maybe more."

"You just need to be there for your child, Draco."

And there were those two words again; 'your child'. He probably would never get used to that phrase hitting him so hard. This was reality, and he was starting to feel its effects. He, Draco Malfoy, was, sometime in the next months, to become a father. He was 18. How was what even plausible? His head was spinning again. He really ought to stop thinking about it all together or he may truly become ill.

"Well, I'm unsure how this is all going to work out. I'm going to lose the one girl I've ever fallen in love with, and be stuck with a child and a girl I've only slept with. Great. Just what I always wanted out of life."

"It'll work out." She patted his knee helpfully.

"How should I even tell Hermione? How do you even bring that up?"

She thought hard for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure. But don't take her out anywhere. The last thing you need is for a public scene. Not at night, either. You wouldn't want her storming out of your bedroom at 3 am, into the dark with no where to go. Try sometime when she's home from work."

"Yeah…"

He heard the door slam downstairs. Hermione was home, early. "You should go, Draco. Tell her now."

"NOW?!" he exclaimed.

She shushed him quickly. Hermione's footsteps had started up the staircase; they echoed on the marble. Draco stole through the room and crept out of the room; Narcissa's eyes were wide open and she was nodding her head, as if to tell him just to get it over with. He knew he had to. Now was the moment.

--

"So, can we talk about something?" Draco asked as casually as possible, glancing at Hermione. They had just finished lunch and were heading upstairs, preferably (for Hermione) to nap.

"Sure," she said easily, clearly not recognizing the tension in his voice. She sat and laid down on the bed, and Draco gulped.

It was wrong of him to want her right now. He needed to stay focused, so he didn't forget his mission right now. But Draco couldn't stand the thought of maybe never kissing Hermione again after this. She could walk away and he may never feel her lips against his again. Maybe he'd never see her again. That was certainly a possibility, and Draco didn't want to be wishing for closure and not getting any. So he'd give it a shot now.

He laid down next to his fiancé and kissed her forward, playing gently with her curls. His icy eyes found her warm chocolate ones and he stared deeply at her. He didn't want this moment to end, where it was perfect on the outside. The turmoil in him clashed with his the beating with his heart; the speed that it picked up by just her simple touch. It was wrong, but so right, all at the same time. Draco just wanted to lie here and forget about all of his mistakes and regrets.

"I think I finally found something I truly regret doing while I was with you." He tried to say this softly, so he wouldn't alarm her. The second she got suspicious, everything would tumble out wrong.

But on the inside, his body was raging at his thoughts. Draco's brain was telling him the correct thing to do, the right thing, and his heart was screaming in protest. But he couldn't live with this constant fight between his two halves. It was most important to do what was right, instead of living in constant guilt and fear. His palms were sweating.

She propped her head up on the pillow. "What?"

"I love you, Hermione. I really do. And it really kills me to have to tell you this."

"Oh my God," she said in response.

He bit his lip. "I can't even…"

"Tell me." It was forceful. His hand fell from her hair to her cheek, and he stroked it gently. He knew that he may never be allowed this small comfort again.

"I've made… some mistakes in my life. And, I continue to learn from them. But I already knew the lesson this particular one would teach me, and… well, I made it anyways."

His heart was pounding out of his chest, and his stomach was like a lead weight. Throat dry, he wasn't even sure how his mouth was forming proper words right now. This was all so wrong. Wrong time, wrong life, wrong everything. Draco had never wanted to hurt Hermione this bad; he hoped that she recognized that.

"What did you do, Draco?" Hermione replied sharply, her eyes brimming with anxiety.

"That night… at the dance…"

"Melana," she finished.

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened."

He took a deep breath. At least she was allowing him to ease into this. His heart thudded painfully. "I'm not putting any blame on you. I got a little… tipsy, and I wasn't thinking clearly… We ended up in a classroom, and it just happened so fast…"

"You shagged her."

He nodded his head, trying to stare at the ceiling. He could hear her trying to draw in ragged breaths. His hand instinctively reached out to hold her but she batted it away. He looked back at her and the tears slipped out slowly.

"Look, I'm sorr-" he started.

"I know you are."

"I wish I could tell you that it would be okay for us… but it's not."

"Draco, I… I egged you on, I… deserve…"

"No, you didn't. Not at all. Don't… say that. It was immature of me. I told you, promised you, that I had changed. And I didn't, at all. This isn't even the worst of it, Hermione. I really wish it was."

"What do you mean?" she said, trying to stifle her crying. Her hands wiped at her eyes lazily, catching the tears before they reached her cheeks. Her eyes were a blackened mess from her mascara.

"Melana is… going to have a baby."

Hermione choked. "Tell me its' yours, Draco." She was sobbing now.

"I… yeah, I'm pretty sure it is." He hung his head. His eyes stung and he was pretty sure he was going to start crying.

She took a deep breath. "You… I…" She got up quickly.

"You stay," he said furiously. He couldn't be here any more. He needed to leave. "I'm going."

And he strode the length of the room, took a look back at his fiancé, with mascara running down her cheeks, and practically ran out of the room. He didn't make it to the staircase before he was crying.

--

**A/n- I'm a fan of cliffhangers, so we'll leave it here for now. Reviews. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n- Thanks for everyone's continued support. Reviews really do make me smile. Sorry about the time span it may take for some chapters to come out. This is due to homework load and work. . When I'm not at work, I'm doing homework, so it's very difficult to find time to write. Thanks for your patience.**

**P.S. To all of those who reviewed seemingly angry or confused as to why Hermione blamed herself, she really didn't. She was trying to find some sort of scapegoat. She fully understands Draco is to blame; she just was in a bit of denial.**

**P.S.S. (wow I have a lot to say), this chapter was originally going to be put up on Sunday… however, Fanfiction failed me and wouldn't allow me to log in for 2 days. So now it's Tuesday and you can blame them for this (even longer) time to wait.**

--

Chapter 3

As frustrated as Draco was, this little unplanned walk was making him sweat. He had stormed out of the Manor, tears already soaking to his collar, and made his way across their lawns. The peacocks (annoying little buggers) stared and clucked at him as he furiously strode the length of his huge yard and exited through the iron gates. By the time he had realized how far he had gone, his forehead was covered in perspiration and the tears weren't helping a bit. Sighing, he finally stopped.

The pain in his legs was nothing to the pain he felt in his chest. His heart, thudding hard against his ribs, felt physically and emotionally drained. Draco squatted and plopped down on a rock, his head held in his hands. Where the hell was he going to go now? When he returned, Hermione would be long gone. It wasn't as if she was going to wait around for his tantrum to be over; she was most likely in a worse state than he. Shaking his head, he looked up.

He had walked a considerable amount down the lane. It wouldn't be long until he reached the Muggle town a few miles from his Manor, which he normally avoided. Wiping the sweat from his brow and dabbing away the tears from his eyes, Draco thought carefully about what was next. The worst of it was over; telling Hermione. Now, he'd have to deal with the consequences and simply live his life on its' course. It'd be simple to go and see Melana, since she'd probably cheer him up a bit. But then again, maybe not; she had started this whole mess, anyways.

Draco was running out of options; he couldn't sit in the hot sun for much longer, and returning to the Manor was a no go. So, he decided to apparate and see if Blaise was home. If not, he'd have to risk heading home and hoping there wasn't too much commotion. Deciding on this, Draco stood up, spun around, and the next second was landing on Blaise's front step.

Blaise's house was on the outskirts of the woods, and Draco had always liked its' location. It was much easier to play Quidditch here, where the trees were a constant source of protection from Muggle eyes. The wind always was calming as it whistled through the branches and shook the leaves. And there was never any type of event going on in the area; it was Blaise's Manor, the woods, and nothing else. Draco always envied his home life.

He rang the doorbell and waited until an elf ushered him inside and darted off to find 'Master Blaise'. It was moments later when Blaise appeared from the kitchen, humming and popping a last piece of pizza crust into his mouth. Draco laughed and jogged over to the boy, giving him a pat on the back.

"Hey mate," Blaise welcomed, showing him into the living room. Blaise had done a bit of remodeling, or perhaps his mother had; the sitting room was now home to a large Muggle contraption.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Draco asked, confused. It looked like some sort of large black screen. Blaise chuckled and lounged on a leather armchair, grabbing a hunk of plastic with buttons on it. He clicked a large, red button and the screen blinked for a second and sound filled the room.

Draco stared and Blaise laughed. "It's some Muggle thing, called a television. It plays Muggle movies and shows."

"…Television?" Draco asked. If he had taken Muggle Studies, he probably would have gotten the concept better.

"Yeah. Like, you know, actors and actresses play on the screen, and it's like a book but you can actually see it…"

Draco was still amused, shaking his head. "Right. Turn it off, it's freaking me out."

Blaise guffawed and clicked the button again, making the screen return to its black color. Draco was hoping that Blaise hadn't acquired any other sort of Muggle trinkets and toys; they freaked him out. Draco finally took a seat on the couch opposite Blaise, and as soon as he looked up, the pain hit him again. His old friend reminded him of school, which reminded him of Hermione, which in turn… ow.

"What's up mate?" Blaise asked. "You look all… upset or something."

"Yeah… have you talked to Melana?"

He chuckled. "Are you joking? After that whole shit with Pansy, I've barely talked to anyone from school, let alone the psycho's best mate. Why?"

Draco gulped. "She's pregnant."

"Who the hell was she shagging? Melana was always going on about wanting you."

Draco clucked his tongue, ignoring the way that his palms started sweating. He honestly wished that this would get easier, but it clearly wasn't going to. "Yeah, well, got what she wanted, didn't she?" he asked weakly.

"IT'S YOURS?" he practically yelled, staring at Draco with wide eyes. Draco nodded slowly. "Oh man, Hermione is going to flip."

"Oh, flip she hast done," he said poetically, rolling his eyes and wringing his hands. "It bloody sucks. I don't know what to do. I can't even go home. It's not like I want this fucking kid at all, and I had to tell Hermione everything, and she started crying and I started crying…"

"YOU cried?" Blaise asked, hiding a chuckle.

"Shut up, mate. I love the girl, and I just basically ruined everything I fucking worked for."

Blaise shrugged. "Just be with Melana then. She's just as hot."

Draco stared at his best friend. Blaise suddenly seemed so immature compared to Draco. Sure, during school they had always been on the same page, but that was back when Draco was always single and shagging all the Slytherins (and others). Now, Draco had settled down (or tried to), and Blaise was still in his bachelor mode. Draco wasn't sure how to even begin to explain the concept of loving someone to Blaise. He'd never get it, not the way Draco wanted him to.

"It's not just about how hot they are… I actually have feelings for Hermione. She just gets me."

Blaise seemed to soften a little. "Alright, alright. So you have to convince her that you can be responsible now."

"How?"

"Well, no matter how hard, you definitely need to support Melana and this kid. If you didn't Hermione would think you'd be like that with her too. And in the mean time, you can figure out a way to win her back, I guess."

Draco cracked a small smile. "Well, at least you aren't completely useless mate."

--

He burst his way into the door, sidling past Melana into her home. She smiled at his abrupt appearance and closed the door behind him. Draco lead himself into her sitting room, which was right below them, just down a few stone steps. Draco liked the layout of her home, but said nothing about it.

"It's nice of you to stop by," Melana said, his lips playing on a smile. He didn't copy her.

"I told Hermione today."

"Explains the red eyes," she commented, motioning with her head to his face. He wiped at his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes are red… means you've been crying."

He blinked. "I wasn't crying. I have allergies."

She giggled. "Sure, Draco. So why are you here, then? Shouldn't you be consoling her or something?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't sound so concerned, Melana. And no, I figured she needs some time, and I needed some time too, I guess."

He noticed her hands were seated on her lower stomach, and she wasn't looking at him at all. There was a longing look in her eyes, as though she wasn't really with Draco here in the room at all, but far away. He couldn't place what she was feeling, so he looked away awkwardly. What could he say to her? He didn't even know what he was doing. This whole experience was like jumping into a dark pool with your eyes shut and not being able to swim.

"I'm sorry about all this," she admitted darkly after a long silence.

"Don't be. It's not your fault," he said sharply, although that wasn't how he truly felt.

"She'll forgive you, Draco," Melana uttered back, clearly catching his remorseful tone.

"Would you?" he shot back, and dismissing her attempt at the answer. "It doesn't matter. How would this even work? I live happily ever after with Hermione and forget about my child? I can't do both. I don't think I can."

"You can try, though."

He sighed. "Yes, I suppose. I will try."

"That's all I'm asking you for." Draco couldn't help but notice how mature Melana seemed to be about all of this. He got up and sat next to her, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry that I'm throwing all this regret of mine on you. It was just… bad timing, is all. If it had to be anyone but Hermione, I'm glad it was you."

She lightly smiled so he got a glimpse of white teeth. "You're sweet. But you should go. My mom and dad are going to be home soon and you shouldn't be here."

He got up slowly and took a last look at her, giving him a parting glance and a slight smile. "Okay. I'll stop by in a few days."

She nodded easily and led him to the door, closing it slowly behind him. It was starting to rain; the clouds had rolled in quite quickly, dark and hateful, ready to pour their worth onto the streets. Draco sighed, knowing he had to return home now, unless he wanted to become soaked to the bone. Or, he could go out somewhere, but everything felt so empty. Besides, he didn't want to risk being seen by anyone. He wasn't particularly in the mood for people interaction right now.

Eventually, Draco would be forced to return home and face the music. Perhaps Hermione would already be long gone. Or maybe, she'd be packing. Bags packed, Hermione could be waiting to say her last goodbyes and then leave, never to return. He couldn't stand the uncertainty of her decision much longer, so he decided it was best to head back home.

When he arrived, it was quiet in the house for the most part. His mother must have left when she heard the argument; it was dark upstairs and there was no sounds of moving furniture or decorations being put up. Unsure exactly of where Hermione may have gone, or where she was in the house if that were the case, Draco trudged upstairs to their (his) bedroom. He heard shuffling sounds and his heart rate sped up.

"Hermione?" he called out, entering the room. She was there, trunk open on the floor, bustling around the room flinging clothes from the wardrobe into the open trunk.

"You came home," was all she said, magically folding a few shirts and stacking them neatly in the trunk. Draco nodded.

"Where are you going?" he managed to choke out, although he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Nowhere, yet. If you don't mind, I'm just going to move into a spare bedroom that Narcissa has made up for now." Her voice was practiced and controlled. Draco had a feeling it was only a façade though; the slight tremor in her voice was noticeable.

"You don't need to go anywhere."

"I do, Draco, I do. Far away from you." His heart practically stopped. "Until I can figure this all out. But Harry is away on business and Ron's house has no space and I just haven't the money for a flat right yet."

"I can give you the money," he insisted. "It's the lea-"

"I don't want your damned money you smug bastard."

He took a deep breath. She started crying quietly again. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

"You fucking already said that and excuse me if I don't believe you."

"Hermione, I never want-"

"Please save it," she cut him off, swiping at the tears on her face. "I don't want to hear it right now. I just… can you please go downstairs?"

Draco really wished it didn't have to be like this, but he knew it wouldn't get any easier. He nodded slowly and exited the room.

--

A few days later, things really hadn't improved. Hermione had moved into one of the spare bedrooms on the floor above Draco's bedroom, taking all of her things with her. He missed the closeness of her touch; they had been sleeping together for months and now, sleeping was so lacking without her. Although he felt incomplete, he also felt a raging sense of guilt as well. And it wasn't the best combination of things.

Hermione mainly avoided him; he expected that she was visiting Ginny and Ron at the Burrow, or else shopping for a cheap flat. Draco told her several times he'd buy her one, but she refused profusely each time, although not as angrily as the first. Not wanting to imagine the Weasley's reactions to the news, Draco steered clear of any public places, confining himself to his bedroom or Blaise's.

Today, he was headed off to meet Melana's parents for the first time over lunch. To be honest, he wasn't all too thrilled about it. In fact, his palms were sweating. It seemed that this whole ordeal has truly gotten rid of his swagger and cockiness. Even his mother had noticed the change, although she hadn't voiced it; Draco could see the look of confusion in her eyes whenever they spoke, though.

He walked slowly up the stairs to Hermione's bedroom. Normally, he didn't tell her where he was going, but that was because she either wasn't home, or the door was bolted. Today, she seemed to have left it open. The windows were thrown open, and a breeze rippled through the curtains. Hermione was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking over a letter. Her owl was perched on the windowsill, waiting for a treat.

"Hey," he said softly, knocking on the door. She looked up and shoved the letter into her pocket swiftly. Draco ignored her tense movements.

"Hi," she responded quietly, not moving from her stoic composure on the bed. He didn't walk any farther than a few feet from the doorway.

"I'm going out for lunch. Do you want anything?"

Her eyes never met his. "No, I'm alright."

He sighed, exasperated. "When is this distance going to end?"

"Don't worry, I'll be leaving soon and then we'll really be distant."

"I don't want that."

"Well, I don't really give a damn what you want," Hermione shot back at him.

"Will you just stay with me?" he begged.

"Why, Draco, why? So you can watch me be upset and disappointed and you can forever wallow in your own fucking guilt? You did this," she said, and her words hit hard. "You can bloody deal with the consequences."

He started shaking his head but stopped, knowing that it was utterly useless. Turning around, he marched out of the door just in time for the night lamp off the bedside table to smash into the wall, inches from his head. He bit his lip and continued down the hall, ignoring the echoed sounds that were Hermione's sobs.

Draco was late for lunch, but only a bit and Melana and her family were just sitting down as he walked stunningly into the restaurant. As hard as it was to ignore the pangs of pain in his chest, Draco forced a toothy smile onto his face. He shook hands with both her mother and father and took his seat next to Melana.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, picking up the menu. Having never been here before, Draco was unsure what to order, but ended up ordering grilled chicken with a side of noodles. Easy and simple, and not too filling; he wasn't sure if his stomach could handle it.

"Afternoon, Draco. It's pleasant to finally meet you. Melana has been simply gushing about how much of a gentleman you've been about this."

The forced smile played back onto his lips, although it didn't reach his eyes. "It's my duty, after all. I couldn't ignore my own flesh and blood."

Her father chuckled heartily at that and patted his lightly on the shoulder. "At first, son, I was a bit angry at my daughter for being so irresponsible. But, after a long thought, I knew that it's all in the past now, and we all have to move forward. I hope you agree."

Draco was hoping the waiter would return shortly with their drinks, because he didn't like the lump in his throat very much.

"Of course sir. I have every intention to support your daughter and this child in any way possible."

"Will you be willing to perhaps pursue anything further with my daughter?"

"Dad, please," Melana complained. "I've told you already, Draco is with another… girl."

"A mudblood, though," he grunted, looking over towards the coming waiter. "Ah, my Firewhiskey. Excellent." He took a long sip. Draco could have gone for some alcohol now as well.

Melana was glancing sideways at Draco, as though she was afraid he was going to get violent. In fact, Draco wanted nothing better than to punch Melana's father square in the jaw, but he refrained, sipping his water gently.

"Yes, well, I don't quite agree with you sir," he said slowly. "However, my relationship between said _muggleborn _and myself will not interfere with my fathering this child. I give you my word."

Melana's father grunted again but said nothing. The mother started on us. "So Draco, do tell…"

The dinner continued in such a questioning manner until the food was gone. Draco covered the check easily without a second thought, and helped Melana up. He couldn't help but notice her flinch at his easy touch, as though she liked the way he held her. His mind, however, was much unfocused on Melana's needs. His desperate need now was to return to the Manor to make sure Hermione hadn't destroyed more of his mother's precious lamps. She'd have a fit.

Melana and her family left the restaurant quite quickly, apparating back to their home he supposed. Rushing, Draco spun on his left foot and landed outside of Hermione's bedroom and narrowly avoiding being trodden upon. He looked around him, confused, and then noticed that several people were in motion in the bedroom.

"Uhm…" he mumbled, trying to figure out what was going on. "Hermione?" he voiced aloud.

"Oh, it's you," he heard in what sounded like Ginny's voice. He wheeled around and the redhead was in front of him. "How nice of you to come."

"What?" he asked stupidly.

The next thing he felt was a sharp sting to his cheek. He held the spot on his skin where Ginny had hit him, knowing it was turning into a red handprint.

"You deserved that," she stated, edging past him into the bedroom.

"You think I don't know that?" he asked. "Merlin, I wish Hermione would do that, instead of being so lifeless all the time."

"Oh, you want me to do that?" she asked sharply, and Draco turned around now to see Hermione behind him. Why did they have to creep up on him?

"I didn't really mea-" SLAP. Other cheek. Wonderful. Well, at least he'd have matching handprints.

"Thanks for that," he said sarcastically.

"Shouldn't have asked for it asshole." Ouch. She was being hurtful today.

"I take it you're leaving," he said slowly, noticing Ginny wheeling out Hermione's trunk. "Let me get that," he offered. Hermione's hand barred him.

"Really, you've done enough." He followed the two girls down the hall and all the way down the stairs until they got to the door. Ginny looked awkward for a moment, and then shrugged and continued out the door.

"I'll be at home when you're ready," she called, and Hermione said nothing in response.

Draco had rehearsed so many times what he would say to Hermione when this moment came. He'd practiced begging her to stay, telling her how sorry he was and how much he loved her. But standing here, and seeing the tears running down her cheeks, he couldn't manage to get the words out. He knew that Hermione needed the time away to get her head straight and figure out what to do. He didn't know anything right now, except that it was truly over.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to meet her eyes, but she was looking at the tile.

"I wish it was enough," she voiced.

"I love you, Hermione."

"And I love you too, Draco." It melted his heart. "I just wish you had thought of that when… when it happened."

"I did, I did, I just…"

"It was a regrettable mistake on your part, wasn't it? But we can move on now. It probably wouldn't have worked in the long run anyways."

"Don't say that," he growled.

"It's true. We may never know, though." She slowly reached out for his hand, and Draco was unsure what she was doing. Her palm scraped his, and the pulled away. He looked down.

The engagement ring lay solitary on his white, sweating palms. He looked up to see her back turned to him, walking through the doorway for the last time.

He could have sword he heard her voice in a whisper say, "Bye Draco." But then she was gone. It was the last time Draco glimpsed Hermione Granger for months.

--

**A/n- I really like this chapter. I actually know how the story is going to go, and end now. It'll be shorter than the last story, that's for sure. Maybe ten chapters, maybe less. Reviews please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n- Often times, I disappear. I'm back. I'm going to finish this. Enjoy. **

--

Chapter 4

"Draco! Can you get the door?" Melana's mother yelled. Draco rolled his eyes and strode over to the door, quickly brushing off his robes. Opening it widely, he revealed two squealing girls in pink dresses carrying boxes almost as big as themselves. He let them in.

"Welcome, welcome," he said in an annoyed tone, and they brushed by him quickly, looking excited at the prospect of being let inside Melana's home. Draco rolled his eyes again. He wasn't going to last much longer.

He followed the pink girls in the sitting room, where a mountain of presents and boxes wrapped in colorful paper greeted him, as well as the sound of over a hundred chatting women. He despised Melana for making him be here. Normal men got to sit out on baby showers; not he, though. No, Draco was meant to stay at least for half of the festivities before he was allowed to escape to Blaise's Manor. Melana was overly strict.

"Thank you Draco," Melana whispered. He smiled and nodded curtly. Melana flitted away to formally greet all of the newcomers, including the annoying girls in pink. Draco didn't recognize them from Hogwarts, so they must be old friends or relatives, at the least. Merlin knows, Draco presumed.

He headed outdoors for a breath of fresh air, and looked up at the sunny sky. There were no clouds today; one of the only days it may actually not rain. For this, Draco was thankful. All it had done was rain for a week straight, and it was cutting into his Quidditch practice time. He didn't want to be off form; try-outs for the Chudley Cannons were the following week, and they were in dire straits for a new Seeker. Draco was so tempted to join, mainly to annoy Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley; the new reserve Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. How that boy had managed to squeak out a spot, Draco had no clue, even if it was only for the reserve team. However, Draco wouldn't be playing reserves. Oh no, the Cannons needed a front man Seeker, and Draco was sure he was up for the job. Since Harry Potter was too busy studying to be an Auror, or something else that involved too much paperwork and not enough flying, Draco was happy to go for the spot. He had already let the Cannons know of his interest, and knew he had been labeled as a 'promising Seeker'.

Draco shook his head; if he thought too much about it, thoughts of his old flame would crawl back. It wasn't something he thought about often. Not because he didn't still love her, he did, but because it was too painful. And in his new life he led, there was no time for pain. Draco needed to focus and be on call basically all the time. He felt as though he had become Melana's new bitch, not the father to her child. Seemingly to her parents, it was the same thing.

"You okay?" he heard someone ask, and he turned around to see Pansy. Draco chuckled; she looked so different than in school. Not prettier or anything, just older. He had been seeing a lot of her lately, since Melana and she were on good terms, and Draco was over at Melana's often.

"Yeah, I'm great. Thanks." There was no coldness to his tone. The subject was, however, weary and something that Draco didn't want to start up again with her.

"You miss her today," she continued, to Draco's dismay.

"I miss her everyday."

"Melana understands that," she commented, flipping her black hair obnoxiously. Draco sighed. He knew Melana understood, or claimed to, but that didn't make any difference.

"I know she does," he said for what seemed like the millionth time. "It's not fair to her, either."

"No, but you know she adores you."

"She's merely attached," he grumbled, kicking the muddy earth. Pansy stepped a bit closer, putting her claw-like hand on his shoulder.

"Don't tell her that," she warned. "She claims she loves you." That was news to Draco.

"Does she? I don't see how she can. I'm only doing what she asks of me because this is partly my fault."

"You're being so responsible about this Draco, and she thinks that it's because you have deeper feelings for her, not just because you have a guilty conscience and no girl to fall back on."

This angered Draco, but he couldn't understand why. Melana confused him, and now Pansy was just making everything worse. If it could only be as simple as possible, then Draco could maybe think about what to do. But everything was weaved together now; this baby, Melana, Hermione, him… It swirled around in his brain. He was going to need a Firewhiskey.

"Well, maybe I do like Melana. But it's nothing com-"

"I knew it," she sang lightly, skipping away from Draco.

"Stop! Pansy, don-" It was useless; she was already inside. Draco cursed under his breath and looked back into the sun. "Why do you do this to me?" he asked at no one in particular. Sighing, he dug his hands back into his pocket and walked inside.

The atmosphere in the sitting room was hectic, and many of the guests had spilled outside to the patio or the living room, where everyone was gathering and exchanging the latest gossip. Draco didn't understand why women felt a need to constantly get together and talk about each other; it was a little bit juvenile. He wanted nothing to do with any of it. He sought out Melana, who was standing next to Pansy with a smug expression on her face. Pansy skipped away again when Draco neared the pair. He scowled in her general direction.

"She told you," he stated.

"Yep."

"Peachy," he said sarcastically, staring at the mountain of gifts instead of Melana's overly excited face.

"You act as though I'm a horrible girl, or something."

"You're not," he tried to explain. It was hard to get a coherent thought out with all the screaming. And besides, there was too much fuss going on over Melana. It wasn't the time for a serious conversation. "Look, we'll talk about this after. I have a headache."

"Me too," she chimed in, laughing. "But okay. Are you staying?" She gave him a pout. He sighed.

"Yes, I'll sit right here." He sat down on the chair next to Melana's. She smiled with a row of straight teeth and called attention to herself. Everyone gathered in front of her, and the gift opening began.

--

After the entire ridiculous process was over, Draco stood solemnly behind Melana as everyone slowly trailed out the door. Opening the gifts had taken over three hours, and then there had been tea and cookies and talking and more talking. It was excessive. Draco was tired, and pretty annoyed, and couldn't wait for all of these women to leave the house. Melana had already said that he was free to go home and come back, but his house was empty anyways (his mother was here), so there was no point to being lonely. When he was alone, he got upset.

His hand rested on the small of Melana's back, showing support for her as everyone trailed by slowly. Not daring to look down, Draco could imagine the small smile spread on Melana's features. Although he hadn't a desire in him to truly be with her, he knew that it made her happy to see him so supportive of her. It was the least he could do; he was an adult now.

For a moment, Draco wondered what his father would have done, had he been in his position. Probably, he would have been a man and done exactly what Draco had done, and hoped for the best. But Lucius had never cheated on Narcissa, the way that Draco had so wronged Hermione, and in such a big way. Part of him wished that his father was alive, so he could have asked for his guidance. But the other part of him knew what the answer would be. Melana over some mudblood filth any day. He shook his head.

After everyone was gone, Melana sighed in relief and Draco slouched into a chair, surrounded by a mountain of gifts. Melana's mother and her house elves were flitting about, putting things neatly into boxes and towing them away, or cleaning up wrapping paper, cards, and bows. Draco had never seen so much baby blue in one room in his entire existence. At least it would be a baby boy.

"So, we haven't really talked about names," Melana admitted sheepishly, and Draco shrugged. He didn't seem to think he had any sense of input into this.

"Whatever you want," he suggested, swiping his long hair out of his eyes. The shaggy tips of his blonde locks were now at his shoulders in the back, and past his nose in the front. He'd have to cut it, probably this week sometime.

"Draco, this is serious!" she whined. He glanced over. She seemed pretty serious to Draco. He wanted to groan, but he refrained.

"Alright. Well, did you have any ideas?"

"Kind of…"

"Shoot, then."

"Well, do you want to name it after your father? Lucius?"

Draco barked. "Absolutely not. I won't have my son's name tainted with the memory of that name. No, no. Choose something else," he demanded. "Please," he tacked on at the end, softly.

"Do you have any ideas?" she asked softly, avoiding his eyes. He chuckled lightly.

"You're asking the wrong person. But, I've always liked the name Breckin."

She thought on that for a second. "Breckin?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Yeah. I like it."

"You're so easy Melana," Draco replied, lounging back in the leather chair. She giggled.

"Only for you." She winked. Draco chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair and then looking away. He didn't know how to respond to that, and either way, he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. And he knew that this was leading towards a conversation that he'd much rather be avoiding.

"So, about earlier…"

"Melana, you know Pansy. She's a conclusion-jumper. Now that isn't to say that I don't… particularly care about you, I do. It's just a little complicated. I've always liked you as a person, even before Pansy and I got together last summer. It's just… always bad timing, right?"

"Yeah, but, you've been so good to me."

"It's my responsibility, Melana. But I cannot give you what you want. I really wish it was that simple, because I want to make you happy. But I can't make you and I both happy. I'm not even happy now, Melana, but that isn't your fault. I made a choice. And I'm happy that if it had to be anyone, it was you. You're so… sweet, to me." He paused. "But I can't give you my heart. Someone else has it."

"It's been months," she grumbled, looking at the white gift boxes rather than Draco. He sighed.

"I know, but… that kind of feeling doesn't go away. When you find someone like that, you'll understand me."

"What if that's you?" she asked, her cheeks going pink.

"It's not," he assured her. "Trust me. Some guy other than me will find you and appreciate you the way you deserve to be, and you'll forget all about me. Until then, I'm here to support you, and be the father to your… our, child. But I don't want this to be a… shotgun wedding, or anything."

She nodded slowly. "You're probably right.," she replied morosely.

"I know I'm right."

There was a long pause, and then, "Have you talked to her?"

He looked away. "No. I don't think she wants to see me."

"But, you haven't even…" she started, but Draco cut her off.

"Can you just drop it, please?"

Melana didn't say anything, and the pair was quiet for a few minutes before Melana got up and walked out of the room. Draco felt embarrassed, and could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, even as he tried to fight them. This no good feeling of remorse and sadness was too much for him. Pansy was right; it had been months, and he needed to work on getting his life back together. As much as it pained him, Draco needed to focus his efforts elsewhere. Quidditch tryouts would be helpful, he reasoned, as he could direct his anger and pent-up emotions into a game he loved.

So when the tryouts loomed closer and closer, Draco was feeling much better. He spent the next few days avoiding Melana and working on his seeking skills at his own home. The girl stopped by a few times and watched, but the two barely communicated at all. She would sit in the sun and watch Draco fly circles around for hours, and finally she'd give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye and head home.

The morning of the Cannons' tryouts, Draco woke up early and got ready hastily. He needed to be at the pitch by noon, but he wanted to stretch and fly for awhile beforehand. He ended up eating breakfast at eight and flying around his backyard for a few hours, just to warm up. Afterwards, he stretched his muscles properly and jogged around his house a few time to get his adrenaline pumping. Finally, when he felt ready, he apparated with his broomstick to the pitch.

Loud shouts greeted him, and he smiled, feeling right at home. After finding the coach of the team and getting his number, he joined the queue of Seekers trying out. There were only a few others with him, because most of the crowd was here to try out for the Chaser position, as there were two spots open. The rest of the team was in the stands with quills and parchment, and they would help the coach judge the recruits. The reserve team was there also, Draco noticed. He could see Ron's red hair in the group.

The Seekers watched as the Chasers flew around, passing the Quaffle to one another and taking shots on the Keeper. Then Ron got up from the stands and guarded the other hoops, and the Chasers trying out separated into teams and played a pick up match against each other, each side getting only one Beater. It was interesting to watch, and Draco found himself choosing the best Chasers out of the bunch with his own critiques. When they were finally done, the Seekers high-fived the hard-working recruits as the exited the pitch, sweaty and tired.

Then Ron passed by, giving Draco a death stare while wiping sweat off his brow. Draco tried to look away but he found that he couldn't. Ron's anger seemed as red hot as his hair, and Draco knew that he hadn't been forgiven; not one bit. It shook him to see that rage in Hermione's best friend's eyes, but there was nothing Draco could do about it. He'd have to channel his nervousness into skill while out on the pitch.

Once the Chasers cleared off, and both Keepers had resumed their seats in the stand, Ron still glaring at Draco hard, the Seekers were called onto the pitch. Draco took a deep breath and mounted his broom, flying into the sky high. After the Seekers did a few laps around the pitch, the coach called them down to give them directions. Nervousness flooded throughout his veins, but he wasn't sure why. Quidditch always provided thrills, not nerves. Perhaps it had something to do with Ron being present, or the fact that Draco could make a huge fool of himself.

"Listen up," the coach started, and Draco turned his attention to the man's words. "The first round will be a free-for-all. All five of you will chase the snitch. Whomever catches it will sit out the first round of head-to-heads."

Everyone nodded, and he continued. "The remaining four will be paired off randomly. Each duo will compete to catch the snitch. The two that are victorious will move on. The one with the fastest time will sit out the next round. The player who sat out the head-to-heads will face the recruit who had the slower time. The winner of that snitch chase will compete in the finals versus the recruit with the fastest catch time during the duels. Is that clear?"

Draco nodded and could see that the faces of the other possible players were nervous. At least he wasn't the only one. "The winner of this tournament, so to speak, will be our Seeker. The runner-up will come on the team as a reserve. Let's get going."

Draco's stomach was in knots, although he knew that if he caught the snitch this time, he would have fewer rounds to fight through. All of the players lined up and the coach released the snitch. Draco's eyes followed it until the sun absorbed its' golden color, and Draco looked away, waiting for the whistle. When it sounded, he kicked off the ground, trying not to focus on anybody else. His eyes immediately began searching the skies, flying around in random directions, desperate for any hint of the gold.

After about five minutes, he heard a gasp, and a roar from the small crowd and cursed. He knew someone had caught the ball other than himself, and then he heard the whistle. He flew down to the coach and a player standing beside him, looking very smug. Draco scowled and looked away, angry with himself.

"Alright. Crowley here found the snitch, so he'll sit out the next round. Simmons and Farley, you two will go head-to-head first." Two boys stepped forward, leaving Draco to face the only girl competitor. "Malfoy and Givvins, you two will be the second group."

Draco nodded and shook hands with the girl next to him, and then the two took their place on the sidelines. Sitting down, he tried to zone out, concentrating on the task ahead. If he didn't catch the snitch, he'd be out of the running. If he got the fastest time, he'd be guaranteed a spot on the team, whether it be reserve or the front man. Unfortunately, either way, he'd be stuck practicing with Ron Weasley for the next year or more of his life. The thought made him gag a bit.

A piercing whistle awoke him from his thoughts and brought him back to the pitch. "Excellent job Simmons, you'll be moving on. Farley; you're out. Thanks for coming out for the team," the coach said, and Draco stood. His stomach felt twisted, but he put on a mask of cockiness and smirked to the crowd, to show he was ready.

The coach's whistle blew once more and Draco kicked off the ground, soaring into the air and right into the sunlight. Blinking against the rays of sunlight, he battled his way across the pitch, doing two quick laps to loosen him up and try to catch a glimpse of the snitch. One eye stayed focused on the girl, also circling the pitch, and the other swiveled around wildly, looking for the gold. His broom couldn't help him here, as his enemy also was riding a Firebolt. Draco was worrying, as he flew, that time was passing by quickly. The other boy had caught the snitch in under ten minutes, and Draco knew that time was ticking.

Then he saw it; a quick flash of the wings, yards away from him, closer to the girl. But she hadn't seen it; she was looking in the opposite direction. Draco took off, following the path of the gold, and he was ahead of the girl now, flying past her, right behind the flight of the snitch… and she was catching up, her lesser weight helping her fly faster than Draco, but his hand was outstretched, and the winged ball was so close… his fingers closed on air, and he missed it, but so had the girl.

He pushed forward now, not afraid to fight dirty, and looped around the girl slightly as the two both banked left, and Draco was on the inside now, closer to the ball… Gavvins came up closer to him and he kicked out and felt purchase on her leg. There was a shriek of pain and it was all over, the ball struggling in Draco's palm, and the sound of the whistle. Gavvins, the other Seeker, was grimacing against the pain in her shit where Draco's boot had made contact, but Quidditch was a nasty sport.

"Good snag, Malfoy. You had the fastest time, as well, so you'll sit out this round."

Draco smiled, taking a deep breath and sitting down. He could see Ron's mouth turning down in the stands, and he chucked the redhead the finger. He received one back in return, but didn't care. If everything went alright in the next round, he would be joining the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team, and be stuck around the annoying weasel for months of hard training. At least there would be a chance he'd get injured and Draco could watch, and laugh.

The final match up ended up being Draco versus the boy Crowley, and Draco easily outraced his old Nimbus 2001. He was all smiles when the coach told him that he'd made the team, and Crowley shook his hand, happy that he had at least taken the reserve spot. The coach called the rest of the team down to shake hands with the two Seekers, and then went off to decide which Chasers would be making the squad; a much more difficult and elaborate process.

"Well Weasley," Draco said as the rest of the team started to trickle off the pitch, "looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy, before I shut it –"

"Ronald, is everything a fight with you?" someone asked, cutting him off. Draco wheeled around and his heart nearly stopped. His jaw definitely dropped a little, and then his heart rate sped up. He felt a little sick.

"Hermione, it's Malfoy, he—" Ron complained, but Hermione shushed him.

"Your mother wants you home, she sent me for you."

Ron grumbled a little bit, staring hard at Draco and then Hermione and then apparated away. Draco tried to look at anything but Hermione, but the grass wasn't all too interesting and he really missed the look of her angelic face and the way her chocolate eyes just drew him in…

"So," he choked out, scuffing his boots into the ground, "came to see Ron at his first team event?"

There a silence, a small movement, and then Hermione was right next to him. "Honestly?" she asked, and he didn't need to look to know that she was crying.

"Yes honestly."

"I knew I would see you."

"You knew I'd be here?" he asked. "How… Blaise? Have you been talking to Blaise?"

"Harry has been talking to Blaise, not me. They work together." Draco had forgotten that Blaise was also studying to be an Auror. And Potter would be talking to him… and maybe Blaise had been bragging. So, Harry had gone and told Hermione, of course.

"So you came to see me." It wasn't a question, and he didn't expect a response.

"I had to see you, I… wanted to know how you're doing."

"Blaise didn't tell Harry that, then," he said sharply, and he could see the words hurt Hermione. He hadn't meant to sound so angry, but he was, and seeing her was only making him more confused.

"Don't get angry with me, Draco Malfoy. If anyone has a reason to be angry, it's me. Not you."

"I know," he said, trying to be soothing. He reached out but she swatted his hand away, wiping away her own tears.

"I miss you," she admitted, but she wouldn't look at him. He could feel teardrops leaking into his eyes, and he was happy that she wasn't staring, because he didn't want her to see him crying.

"I miss you too."

"Are you and Melana…?"

"No." It left no reason for discussion.

"I just thought that maybe… you and her."

He took a deep breath. "No. What about you… anyone else?"

She was quiet for a long time, looking at the sky as if it held the answer. He didn't want to push her, but he couldn't understand why she was being so quiet. What did she have to hide? Draco was nervous that maybe her and Ron were getting back together, or any number of the men that she was working with had made a move on her.

"There's nobody else. There never will be."

Her words brought a mixture of swelling happiness and deep, deep pain. He didn't know what she was saying, but he knew that, by her words, she was telling him that she still loved him. And he wanted to grab her, hug her, kiss her, bring her home and just spend time with her… But he also knew it couldn't be like that.

"I-I'm sorry I messed everything up."

"I've forgiven you. I regret the decision I made, to leave you. Everyday. I wish we had worked it out… but I don't know if there would have been a way to do it." She suddenly locked eyes with him. "You're going to have a baby, Draco, and not with me. And that… kills me."

He swallowed hard. "I want to work it out… I want… no, need, to prove to you that you still are the most important person to me." He couldn't believe that he was saying this, that all of this was happening. He had just hoped to be able to see her, one more time, and now they were talking. His head was spinning.

"Draco…" her voice faltered. Tears spilled from her eyes and she put her head in her hands.

"Don't cry," he said, pulling her closer, and she allowed him this comfort, and his hands slowly reached up and cupped her face, smoothing the tears away. Black lines made their way down her cheeks, eyeliner running like little streams on her pale skin.

"Can we just… try to work this out? Slowly?" he asked, knowing how pathetic his own voice sounded. She looked up at him, hiccupping a little bit.

"Just fucking kiss me, you prick."

And his lips crashed onto hers once again.

--

**A/n- Finally done that chapter! Just as a side note: She IS NOT taking him back with welcome arms. That's all I'm saying. REVIEW!**


End file.
